B.Umble flys again-part two. 

I had returned to the Banana Strip some days previously and had flown an X-AIR belonging to Medway Microlights, or more accurately to Mrs Draper.

Chris Childs, the CFI at the Banana Strip (Stoke Nr Rochester Kent) had reliably informed me, that Mrs Draper was about to form a small syndicate consisting of newly qualified pilots all of whom had trained at Stoke.  Would I be interested in joining this syndicate?

I had been taken for a flight in the X-Air by the CFI and had found it somewhat restrained and even reluctant in one aspect of its performance; it did not like to climb away from ‘Mother Earth’.  This reluctance to reach out to the heavens had been explained at the time of our flight by Chris.  The propeller was too coarse in pitch which was good for cruising speed but for little else.  Buttercup height may be perfect for the marshes but would lead to some very intricate flight planning should one wish to venture further.

In the intervening period between that flight and my present visit I had thought about the offer and decided in favour of joining the syndicate.  I had many reservations one of which was in the manner of the aircraft’s performance and another in the so-called ‘hangarage’ of the X-Air in the form of the dreaded ‘COVERS’.

After my previous flight in the aircraft with Chris Childs, it had taken us at least one hour to replace the covers, working in very light winds and with the help of Alan Cashin, the Deputy CFI, and we had not made the ’best of jobs’ of the task.  On completion the X-Air gave the appearance of a badly wrapped parcel that had suffered more than one journey through a GPO, parcels sorting office!     

A syndicate would solve most of my problems because I was not keen to buy a ‘kit plane’ having demonstrated on a number of occasions during my lifetime my total ineptitude in the field of construction.  I had made a half-hearted attempt, via the good offices of Chris Childs, to negotiate the purchase of an aircraft-also an X-Air- but had been pipped at the post by an allegedly ‘lower’ bid!   I was also somewhat loath at this stage to have all the considerable problems, work and hassle accompanying the ownership of a Microlight.  The ‘syndicate’ offered the best deal, the only deal available and in this way I could keep flying.

Having made my decision and having told Chris of my desire to join the syndicate he ordained another flight, a check flight.

Chris was a little suspicious of my skills in the handling of the X-Air’s braking system.  I had frightened the life out of him on my previous flight, not once but twice.  The first time we had wandered off across the active runway on starting the engine as I had failed to ascertain where exactly the brakes were situated or how they were applied.  The second occasion was after a half way reasonable landing when I had applied differential braking, totally inadvertently, whilst steering the X-Air round the elbow in the runway.  At the time I was using our landing run to speed us along runway ‘06’ towards our parking place near the clubhouse.  The reversal of the two braking actions would, on reflection, have been more apposite.  I had a score to settle with this little aeroplane.

After a blustery day with rain showers thrown in for good measure the evening had transformed the day into one of peace and tranquillity.  The clouds had rolled away and the visibility was judged to be excellent from our position on the clubhouse lawn, the patch of mud outside the back door that serves as a lawn, and the wind had straightened up and was down runway ‘24’ at no more than a few knots and we could count on at least another hour and a half of daylight.

All was set for my next foray. 

First there were things to be done.  There are always things to be done.  I wandered out to the X-Air and released it from its various restraining points including the railway fence and the concrete filled tyres.  This done I made a start on removing the covers-the ones that save the aircraft from having to have ‘New Skins afore Christmas’.  The ‘covers’ had presented us with considerable problems the only other time I had flown the X-Air and still presented a stumbling block as far as I was concerned.  I know I had expressed a desire to join the syndicate but I was having second thoughts yet again based on my hatred of the ‘covers’. 

I was now to reverse the process.  I found the ripping noise given off by the ‘Velcro’ to be a most satisfactory sound.  I took the covers off but also took great care to fold them and keep them in order so that any recovering after flight would be easier to accomplish.  This job completed I unveiled the engine and propeller.  There were now three small individual ‘bootees’ protecting the propeller blades, one for each blade.  These ‘bootees’ had not been in evidence the last time I had flown this aircraft but the propeller had been of two blades only, or was that my imagination?

Chris came out of the clubhouse and approached at speed. 

Have you checked everything out? he asked on his arrival.

‘Anything fallen off overnight?’

‘It wouldn’t dare!’  I replied having Mrs Draper in mind.

Chris cast an experienced eye over the aircraft.

‘You have checked it?’  he queried again.

‘YES, a couple of times and there is nothing wrong-I don’t think-well not many things’.

We turned it around to face inwards to the airfield.

‘Right lets get going then’ said Chris.

He stopped and looked at me.

‘What do you mean not many things?’

‘ Couple of flat tyres, few broken exhaust securing springs, no oil in that little oblong job on top of the engine, no water in the radiators, the tail unit is very slack and petrol is leaking out from underneath, otherwise all appears to be well!’   ‘By the way’ I added, ‘the prop has grown an extra blade-I think-and the instruments are unreadable as someone has glued a printed copy of the ‘Lords Prayer’ to the instrument panel.’

Chris said something like ‘Oh dear! it is going to be one of those trips’.

‘GET IN!’ he ordered.

I had the ‘big struggle’ to embark but settled into the seat.  Chris came in from the other side and we were set.

‘A few circuits then go for a fly round’ he instructed.

As we taxyed back to the numbers I casually asked about the replacement of the ‘too coarse’ propeller and asked him if it had improved the climbing characteristics?

‘Don’t know’ said Chris, ‘Alan tells me that it is greatly improved-gave it a run round yesterday’.

Alan weighs but very little, probably nine stones wringing wet so even with the old propeller he would be able to report favourably.  My concern must have been obvious.

‘Stick to your abort point if unsure’ Chris advised.

‘Too blooming right I will’.

We took off without incident but I was a little concerned by the behaviour of the air speed indicator.  The reading would not go above thirty mph!

I did happen to mention this fact in as casual a tone as possible.  We were again purposely slow in the climb-very, very slow as we guessed our air speed although a little bit of juggling and a lot of hope brought us to five hundred feet and onto the down wind leg followed by a very short circuit and landing.

Chris climbed out once we had settled on the taxy track and attacked the pitot head by spearing its orifice with a grass stalk.  Obviously some bug had dared crawl in over night.  This fact would have to be reported just in case it happened again.  Our report resulted in the appearance of another bootee, this time for attachment to the pitot head.

Our second attempt that evening was more fruitful in flying terms.  The grass stalk had done its job and we were indicating a flyable air speed.

On the down wind leg I now had more time to appraise the conditions.  The evening was truly magical.  We could clearly see Richborough Power Station to the east, London to the west and far into Essex to the north.

‘We simply can’t waste such a perfect evening as this, flying the circuit’ and fortunately Chris agreed wholeheartedly.

We set off for Richborough climbing, very well to two and a half thousand feet in crystal clear, calm air.  This is what flying is all about.

We had a perfect view of France being able to clearly see the movement of vehicles on the French coastal roads.  We picked out various landmarks down as far as the Somme Estuary.

Manston was looming ever closer by this time so we went as near as we thought politic, a couple of miles past the twin towers of Reculver, turned around and headed back into the setting sun, towards the Banana Strip, admiring the panoramic view along the way.

During the flight I had left the X-Air more or less entirely to its own devices and it had responded accordingly by simply cruising along on a heading and a height selected by us needing very slight trim changes from time to time as the fuel decreased and the odd dab on a rudder pedal to pick up a slight downward movement of one or other of the wings.  We crossed over the water gap at Grain and let down to circuit height, came in and landed.  It was by this time approaching dusk.

I brought the X-Air to a standstill on its allotted parking space feeling serene and very happy.  I had coped well with the brakes having left them entirely alone.  Chris climbed out so that I had sufficient space to carry out my departure from the confines of the cockpit.  I managed to disembark.

‘Why the blazes can’t you always fly like that?’ he asked me.

‘Like what?’ I asked.

‘Like a normal person, a normal pilot even-why did I think we were in for another one of your roller coaster rides? Twenty one months of you taking the ‘Mickey’ at every possible opportunity and finally you forgot to do it this evening!’

I was pleased to see that he was smiling broadly, almost but not quite, laughing.

I had no answer, unusual I know, but he had taken me completely by surprise.

We wandered in, booked in and put the kettle on.  We were both eager to explain the fantastic conditions we had just experienced and the pleasure of our flight to anyone in the clubhouse who would listen.  Alan Cashin listened politely and then offered me a torch!

‘Don’t forget the covers!’ he said.

I must thank Alan, for he came out and helped me to cover the machine.  It was a far more difficult task in the dark and had I not had the foresight to fold them and keep them in order when removing them, I think we would have been struggling there the following dawn.

A great number of harsh words were uttered through clenched teeth, mainly my clenched teeth I have to admit, as we struggled in the dark with black covers and the aid of Alan’s torch whose battery was nearing the end of its useful life span.  Finally we managed to complete the task but the whole idyllic evening flight had been totally spoiled for me and I was having second, third and fourth thoughts about signing on the dotted line.

The situation was saved, however, when I was reliably informed that the aircraft would fairly shortly be moved into an actual hangar and the covers would be ‘thrown away’.  On that day I signed.  The expression ‘fairly shortly’ turned into a few weeks but at last one could forget the covers.

I had a short layoff from flying after the rigors of the last episode mainly because I had suffered a severe strain to my right wrist brought on, I am sure, by an even more severe attack of ‘writers cramp’ occasioned by the extravagant and profligate use of my most treasured possession-my chequebook.

I again took to the air in the X-Air, in early September.  I met a very brave man on that day, a man who had nerves of steel or was totally naïve in all flying matters, one of the two, I did not like to ask.  His name was John Rakkar.

John became my first official passenger since my original licence had lapsed back in the nineteen sixties.  Bravery beyond the call of duty and he appeared to be completely sober at the time.

The evening was not the best of evenings being dull and on the murky side but we set off for Detling, Leeds Castle and the new ‘Chunnel Link’ railway line.  We actually managed to time our arrival to the exact moment when one of the trains was in progress towards London.  This sighting achieved we milled around for a time ‘looking at things’ including the castle, but were heading or drifting in the general direction of Headcorn.  A twin engined aircraft sped over-head probably on its way into Headcorn.  I watched it disappearing into the gloom when suddenly and for no apparent reason it pulled sharply up and to its right.  Balloons! The ‘balloon barrage’ had been activated-must be expecting a Norman raid-and there right in front of us blending perfectly into the evening gloom was a blooming great big grey one.  I took evasive action in plenty of time but I was not best pleased.  John sat there totally imperturbable in spite of my uncouth utterances. 

‘Lot of balloons around this evening’ he said.

‘Where?’  I more or less shouted.

‘Further on and much lower’ he said.

Fortunately I had seen those particular balloons more from the little flashes of orange light as they lit their gas burners than as actual shapes.

We headed for home in the gathering gloom thankful that on arrival we had only to push the X-Air into a hangar.

The syndicate was now formed although one member dropped out within two weeks and a replacement would-be member was refused entry due to some insurance regulations, or so I believe.

We were a happy band of aviators if one can call Microlight pilots ‘aviators’-I have my doubts.

The X-Air was hangared and the covers had been thrown away.  Autumn was starting.  The weather was still good.  Plenty of flying in prospect-what could be better?

B. Umble.

May 2004.